


whoops

by luciole_etoile



Series: roleplay/conversations [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game), underswap
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angsty Schmoop, Comfort/Angst, Gen, Heavy Angst, More angst, melting???, void goop(TM)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-11-01 06:45:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10916481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luciole_etoile/pseuds/luciole_etoile
Summary: Shyren meets Underswap Sans and-- it doesn't go well.





	whoops

"Greetings, Shyren!" Sans cheerfully greets the monster with a wave of his glove, making sure to regulate his voice level.

"Oh... hello." She glanced over her shoulder, before slowly turning around and smiling faintly. "It's nice to see you."

"It is very nice to meet you again as well, Shyren!" He grins toothily, his eyes closing in face of this bright smile. Some sort of happiness radiates off of him naturally, though the calming sounds of water gurgling in the streams and the flowers humming a low and almost whispery song almost make him want to whisper. His voice sounds so loud here.

Shyren hums under her breath, then turns around entirely and slithers up to him. She winces a little bit at the volume of his voice, but decides not to mention it. "How have you been, do re mi so~" Her voice, by contrast, is barely audible over the running water.

Sans notices the wince, chastising himself for his control. Humming along under his breath and trying to temper his voice again, bringing it down to where it is only a bit louder than the running water, he responds to Shyren, plopping down on the grass gently. "I've been doing quite well. My brother is as lax as usual, but I am sure that he is happy. However, I still do worry about him, after all..." Sans sighs, resting his chin in a blue glove, his elbow resting on his pants. His armor is flexible and comfortable to maneuver in, so it simply bends to his whims with a little resistance. Of course, reinforced by his excellent magic, it can only do the best with the Magnificent Sans!

When he lowered his voice, she sighs quietly, happy. "Why do you worry? He seems... okay, from what I've heard." She sinks down to the ground, coiling the end of her body around her. She leans back, resting her hands on the ground. She watches Sans quietly, winding a piece of grass around her finger. "Has something happened recently? Or is it just... brotherly worry? Si re, si re~"

 

Sans pouts somehow, even with his lack of lips, as a skeleton. He moves his hand and shifts his head to where it's tilted, sandwiched in-between his gloves. They mush his cheeks a bit, squishing them through the use of magic because monsters are made of it.

"I mean, it's a mix of brotherly worry and-- something else, I don't know? I've been worrying a lot about him, lately. He's my little brother, even if we both don't really act much like it, and even if he's a lot taller than me and he's still growing--"

"Papyrus... he's been changing a lot. It's part of becoming a teenager, but come on!"

"The weird, shifty-eyed looks? Frequent period of zero affection, even after a nap? He used to love to hug me, even though he would be tired! Now-- he's even more tired, despite the fact that Papyrus is sleeping more and more! It's digging into his schedule for guard duty..." Despite the exclamation marks, Sans doesn't get louder. He gets... quieter, his voice lower and less enthusiastic.

"I... There's something going on, but no matter how much I tell him that I love and support him-- he still avoids the subject it'll-- it'll burn him or something. It.."

His browbones crinkle in a bit, and his eyes, their pupils lacking in those bright stars, look downcast. The blue is dull, and he moves his gaze from Shyren to the grass. He isn't one to abuse nature, but he has an urge to rip out blades of grass and just tears them up. But doing so reminds him of this one time the two of them made flower crowns when Papyrus was a tiny little babybones and he had these cute little orange footsies and he was so adorable and amazing and he's even cooler now; the best-- better than his dumb older brother and he wants to cry now because it feels like he isn't needed anymore, and--

He is crying, now. He's leaking blue magic from his eye sockets and he apologizes for escalating the conversation to a rant so swiftly. "Mweheheh-- sorry, sorry." His voice cracks while he wipes his eyes with his hands, the magic smearing onto the armor.

"... If I had known I'd become so upset, I would have changed the subject; or maybe not spoken at all, heh heh!"

His voice is very thin and reedy now, like a little kettle about to burst. He's whispering so softly you can barely make out his words, especially above the rasp.

"... I'm so sorry, Shyren."

 

Shyren watches him quietly, her humming becoming quieter and quieter as he spoke. Her tail tightens around her body, and her knuckles go white around the grass. Slowly, the humming fades, until she's just watching him silently. She wants to say something and comfort him, but...

She thinks about her own sister, back before she had fallen down. She had always been so wonderful, encouraging her and speaking for her when Shyren couldn't. Sometimes she wonders if she was simply looking at the past through rose-tinted glasses because she can truly remember very little of what she was. Sans's trouble with his brother tugs at Shyren's soul, and she looks down.

Her eyes begin to mist up, and she quickly turns away a little bit and wipes at her eyes. She couldn't make this all about her, she reminds herself. Her own troubles were in the past, and Sans's are in the present. She needs to help him, now wallow in her misery. But as she opens her mouth, she finds that she doesn't know what to say. Shyren had never faced that sort of trouble. Her sister had always been close. If anything, her problem was that she was living in her shadow.

She lets out a low keening hum through her teeth, trying to collect herself. "Si fa, si fa, do re mi..." Slowly, she lets go of the grass and leans forward, hesitantly placing a hand on his shoulder. She avoids eye contact as best she can, focusing on the ground and nearly whispering as she speaks. "...You don't need to be sorry. I'm sorry about... that. I'm sorry about your problems with your brother. I'm sure--" Her breath catches in her throat for a second, but she continues anyway. "I'm sure he loves you. He's just... growing up. I don't know too much about him, but--" She pauses, seeking something to say. "Even if he's becoming more-- more independent, he still loves you. I know he does." She feels a twinge of doubt at her words, but pushes it away and smiles faintly.

 

Sans's posture has changed throughout his speech, going from 'tall and proud' to 'hunched and slouched', something Sans would have never let himself fall down to in front of someone he knew. But he does, and it speaks of how much he's distressed and stressed about this topic, rolling around in his bed and fiddling with his scarf over. His tears roll down his cheekbones in fat, dull blue colors and they drip onto the pants that bunch up at his knees. He understands, he understands all of what Shyren says, and he memorizes her words, drinking them up like how he hiccups while trying to breathe normally, taking in huge gulps of musty, underground air. It clogs his non-existent lungs and he feels like he can't breathe--!

 

Papyrus.

 

Papyrus loves him, Shyren knows, Sans knows-- surely, this has to be right, Papyrus still loves him, he always has--

Sans takes comfort from touch, and he seeks affection. Papyrus is usually there to give it to him whenever he remembers that they're trapped here, underground, where no one can touch or see and Dad is--

Sans can't see, he can't see it's so dark here the light is so blue, blue, blue, like his dreams-- what were his dreams? It's so dark there too, black, nothing, void, null!

Clenching and unclenching his hands into fists, the fabric of his gloves never resists. The magic of his tears has been absorbed. He wants to curl up into a ball and hide forever. Even if it's dark, maybe then he'll finally remember that something he forgot!

There's a stupid bit of laughter building up in him, bubbling around his SOUL, dribbling over the edges of his shirt, he can feel those nasty, nasty, dirty stains and they're so bad, gross, disgusting, putrid--

Dark, dark, dark dark dark! Being unclean is bad, he has to keep his gloves on, Dad told him that he had to stay clean, he's bad, he's stupid, he doesn't know anything if he can't do this right!

He isn't sure if he's crying so much the world is drowning in his magic or if the world has been bathed in the rivers of Waterfall and he's drowning, drowning, drowning!

But he'd rather drown in the blue water than in his magic. Wouldn't it be so embarrassing if his father ever found out about this?

But back to the main subject, here! Sans knows Papyrus loves him. He has to. Papyrus does, he's only being distant, it's part of 'growing up'! Just like Dad told him!

Sans' breathing has gone wild, from slow and steady breaths to deep and desperate gulps for air. He doesn't realize he's clawing at his eye sockets, digging his fingers in and hooking them on the edges of his eyes. It's kind of revolting to see them dip into the dark holes and be engulfed in nothing, almost as if there's something eating them from inside of there. When he first shoves a gloved finger in, his tears become darker-- until he begins to violently scratch himself, silently. His tears are no longer blue, but black, and they drip like sludge down his bone white cheeks.

He's been repeating a mantra under his breath now, like a blessing and a curse, a hymn. 'Papyrus loves me,' seems to be all he can say, but he certainly doesn't believe it.

 

Shyren frowns, drawing back as Sans hunches over. She knows him enough that to know that this is not normal. He must be feeling terrible. He must be sick. Could he be sick? Could skeleton monsters be sick? Shyren realizes that it doesn't matter, and wants to help him, she wants to help him--

She feels helpless, paralyzed, as she watches him cry. It makes her uncomfortable, the display of emotion that only comes when a monster was having a breakdown. She feels useless. There's a little voice in the back of her mind telling her to help him-- for a second Shyren thinks that it's her sister, but that is impossible. It's impossible for her to help. She's too much of a wallflower, too shy to reach forward and comfort him.

For a few seconds, she feels paralyzed with indecision, but when Sans digs his fingers into his eye sockets she jolts up. She releases a single high-pitched, frantic note, and before she can think it through she moves forward entirely, her body shifting forward so that she's eye to eye with Sans. She grips one of his arms, the other still resting on his shoulder, and hums as soothingly as she could. Her old paranoia about her voice is whispering at the back of her mind, but she was running on instinct, and her instinct is to sing. "Lu li, lu li, lu li la so fa mi do~"

"Sans, are you alright? Can you hear me?" Her voice has gone up in pitch, she notices. "Please stop. Please." She slowly tries to pull his hand down, away from his eye sockets, still humming her song under her breath.

 

Sans shivers, like cold water has washed over him. He trembles under Shyren, releasing his grip easily, though with a little resistance. The tips of his fingers a dipped in a runny, blood-like, dark substance that engulfs the light around it. The touches soothe his thoughts a bit, the screeches in his head ravaging his mindscape like banshees and talons raking across a chalk board. It hurts. But that singing makes it better, he's happier, he has to be happier, there's no way Sans would ever be so depressed, he must be acting...

Sans's head and moving back and forth now, swaying and coming loose-- maybe it'll fall from his neck, just like it did in the dream!

Sans switches to repeating Shyren when he hears her sing, singing in a shaking and low tone. He has a habit of repeating everything he hears when he is panicked, a thing grown from having Papyrus deal with his panic attacks. God, he's sick of it. He's so helpless sometimes, so useless! Why can't he be better?

Sans clenches his gloves into fists, murmuring 'Lu li, lu li, lu li la so fa mi do' under his breath, eye sockets wide. It makes him calmer, but he quickly escalates back into a panic after a while.

He's shaking his head, flopping it back and forth in a way that cannot be comfortable. He's doing it violently as if trying to hit his head against a wall or something.

 

She doesn't know what to do. She releases him and coils backwards, watching him helplessly. Shyren has never had to deal with something like this before, and she's totally blindsided. Panic is beginning to well up in her chest, and she releases it in a single low-pitched note.

"Sans, what's happening?" She doesn't know if he can hear her, but she doesn't know what else to do. "Are you sick?" He's acting so strangely, he must be sick, or under some sort of hallucination, or some kind of drug, or, or--

She slowly raises her hands and grabs his shoulders, wanting to grab his head but fearing hurting him. "Please talk to me. You're-- you're acting so odd." She shifts a bit closer to him, watching him earnestly. This is so, so, wrong. The raw emotion and whatever is happening to him is so overwhelming. Her song falters as she gently shakes him, trying to snap him out of whatever was happening. "Lu li la-- lu li so fa--"

Sans's head snaps up for his empty sockets, gaping maws of nothing, to stare, look Shyren in her eye. "Papyrus. I need Papyrus. Do you think that he'll help me? I hope he will. I don't know if he loves me, but he still does, doesn't he? You said so, Shyren. Papyrus loves me. He loves me, right?"

He seems oddly bitter; sober of his panic attack. The trembling has ceased, leaving for a steady death grip. His gloves go to hang onto Shyren's wrists, not hurting her in the slightest, simply very snug handcuffs.

"... I have to go find Papyrus, Shyren. Please pardon my sudden leave!" In a flash, he seems back to normal, plastering a shiny and bright smiling, his eyes closed. If not for the void dribbling down his cheeks like roots of a tree, he would have looked perfectly fine. His clothes are a bit rumbled though, so when he stands up, he adjusts his armor and shirt.

Tugging on his gloves, pretending not to see the goo on his fingers, he dashes off giggling.

\--But he doesn't go far.

With a keening noise, he crumples back to the ground, rolling on the grass.

Something has snapped.

 

"Sans-- I don't--" Shyren begins to protest, but finds herself too disoriented to actually continue. His behavior had seemingly done a 180, and she is thoroughly bewildered. Even setting that aside, she very much doubted that a conversation with Papyrus in the state he was in would serve to help anyone.

She makes no effort to prevent him from getting up, and just watches mutely as he begins to sprint across the grass. She doesn't even try to stand. She just sits there with her tail coiled around her and her hands on the ground and blankly watches him go.

Shyren has no idea what just happened.

But the point rendered itself moot when a thump echoed across the quiet murmur of Waterfall. She sees him tumble to the ground and immediately she's back up, quickly slithering across the grass. She stops next to him and drops down, brushing her hair out of her face to try and see what happened. "Sans? Are you alright? Did you trip? Is something broken?" The words spill out, jumbling over each other as she tries to assess what just happened.

 

Sans makes an unintelligible noise, a cross between a pained wail and laughter.

Sans doesn't seem to know what happened either, slurring out something as the black goop dribbles out from his nasal pathways as well. It looks like something is wrong with his magic-- thus, wrong with his body.

"It hurts, Shhhhhyren-- ehehehe--"

He seems dazed, having hit his head a bit. "'M leeeeggie hurts. Like someone all up and funky dusted it. Ehehehehee!"

"I like the word funky. It's... it's something!"

Then, with a sort of drunken rush, he goes to tug off his boot. It's up to his knee, though. "I need to check and see if my leg's okay!"

After a bit of struggle, he sighs and pouts. Then, he remembers he laced his boots and begins to tug on the strings, giggling at how they come loose so quickly.

"Wonderful! Now, I just have to get this thing off!" And he slips off his boot swiftly, without any issue.

His foot is a bit... melty. It's... dusty, melting together with the fabric of his footwear. He wiggles his toes in their socks, face suddenly despondent. He's impassive, grim, almost.

"Oh no."

It sounds oddly monotone, almost scripted, as he says it.

 

Shyren draws back, looking concerned. If he didn't look sick before, he definitely does now. She reaches out a hand to try and help, but quickly withdraws it when he starts rambling in earnest. If she was being honest, she's a little bit scared.

"Did you... hit your head?" She asks, watching him struggle with his boot. "Did you--" The question dies in her throat when he manages to tug off his shoe. "What-- what--" She recoils, horrified. That is wrong. It's so, so, so wrong. It hits a chord in her and she isn't sure why.

She shakes her head, trying to clear it. "What happened to it? Is it-- is it broken?" That is not a break, she can tell that, but she doesn't know what else to call it.

 

"I'm broken!" Sans smiles, in all of his small skeleton glory, adding on the 'melting foot' charm. He seems to be okay with this, for some reason, oddly at peace.

He tilts his head as he inspects his foot, lifting a leg and bringing it closer. "I thiiiiiiiiink I might be meeeeelting? Just a little."

He grins up at Shyren. "I diiiiiiid hit my head though, good guessing! The real question, though, is where my brother is!"

 

**Author's Note:**

> wELL, AND THEN I FELL ASLEEP. THE END, CHILDREN.


End file.
